


Falling to Freedom

by NothingSoSpecial (orphan_account)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NothingSoSpecial
Summary: “A smile, a voice, and a star – that’s all you ever remembered. But haven’t you ever wondered why... my dear brother?” A year after the End that Wasn’t, Aziraphale and Crowley have settled back into their respective lives without too much complaint; free from the conflicts of both Heaven and Hell – and just starting their lives together in earnest. But when a strange book discovered in Crowley’s flat starts attracting trouble from both sides, it takes a timely intervention of someone from both their oldest memories to reveal a secret six-thousand years in the making.





	Falling to Freedom

**Fall to Freedom**

**Chapter One: A Meeting in the Park.**

**_“Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.”_ **

**− Haruki Murakami.**

**T** **here was an old man in the park.** Of course, this wasn’t an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence by any means. There are plenty of old men who go to parks; walking either by themselves or with their pets, playing chess, or with their families for a simple afternoon picnic full of homemade food, good company, and laughter. This particular old man, however, sat alone at the bench in front of a small pond full of ducks and the occasional swan, hands folded demurely in his lap with a small, knowing little smile on his face, patient and waiting.

He had long, dark grey hair that might once have been black; left long and free over his shoulders and down his back, and lively coal-black eyes that always seemed to know something you didn’t. Though he had the air of a man who had lived for a very long time, he had the face of one who had lived them well. He wore a sleek, dark grey suit with a white tie hand-embroidered with bright pink flowers.

In other words, Azrael, the Angel of Death, certainly did not look like what anyone thought he did.

It had been such a long time since Azrael had been on Earth, and he marveled at how much it had changed; gone from the barren, lifeless landscape etched forever into his deepest memories, to this – an unspeakably beautiful, bright, _alive_ place. Now, he had known it changed, but his assistants and messengers could be so terribly dry that Azrael often reprimanded them for it out of sheer boredom.

Suddenly, there was a shift in the air. Reality seemed to bend and fold over on itself as none other than the Archangel Gabriel himself silently appeared on the bench right beside Azrael, within the space of a single blink, between one heartbeat and the next; reclined comfortably on the bench, legs crossed, wearing his usual neat light grey suit, dark hair impeccably combed back.

There was a soft silence between them for the first few minutes – no surprise, no hostility, nothing. It was unlike Gabriel to be so silent, so calm, especially in the face of something akin to a threat. They hadn’t seen each other for many, many centuries, what with Gabriel busy in Heaven and Azrael… well, doing whatever it was the Angel of Death did with his time - but Gabriel knew that whenever Azrael left his hidden lair, chaos seemed to follow suit.

And he would quite prefer to avoid it, thank you very much.

"You look well, my dear brother," Azrael spoke first with a warm, unruffled smile, outwardly pleased with Gabriel's appearance. “It’s been too long.”

“Yes, it has.” Gabriel’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker.

Impressively, the Archangel didn't automatically hurl insults or off-the-wall comments. Instead, he just keeping his dark purple eyes on the still water of the pond in front of them, hands clasped together and somehow unable to stop himself from imagining a certain Principality tossing breadcrumbs into the water for the ducks.

“I assume you are here to stop me," Azrael said, without malice.

“No.” Gabriel admitted, quietly, with a shake of his head, eyes flashing this time as they meet obsidian ones, “But I will ask you, as your brother, not to do this. If _Michael_ knew you were here…”

Azrael just chuckled gently, at that. “I am not afraid of Michael.”

And with that, he got to his feet, and Gabriel scrambled to follow.

"Look at them all, Gabriel." Azrael exclaimed happily as they moved toward the street, gesturing out toward the street before them full of bustling people, "Her greatest creation. So fragile, so small, but still so beautiful. _Alive."_

"You and Aziraphale have always had an unmatched fascination with these creatures. I've never understood it," Gabriel grumbled, "Next you'll tell me that you've been sending your workers out not to do their jobs, but to buy you trinkets for your lair.”

"And would that be so wrong, Gabriel?" Azrael asked, curiously, "Why should we _not_ love them? She does, does She not?"

Gabriel gave a hollow laugh. "You ask that when they call you the _Angel of Death_?"

“My job is to bring them peace, to deliver them back to Her side by guiding them toward Heaven or Hell. That is my covenant." Azrael lets Gabriel think on that for a moment before adding, quietly, "… You know, this mess isn't your fault. I do not blame you. If I could blame anyone, it would be Her."

"That is blasphemy," Gabriel automatically answered instantly, voice hardening.

"Will you be the one to burn me for it, then, brother? Or will you stand by and watch, just as you did when She condemned Raphael?"

"He betrayed us!" Gabriel snapped instantly, miraculously keeping his voice low as not to startle any passersby. " _He_ turned his back on Her! On us! He _laughed_ when he Fell!”

“And yet, you still cried,” Azrael’s voice is gentle but firm. “You _cried,_ Gabriel. Cried when She struck him down and then when She made you make him forget.”

Gabriel frowned, and likely would have come up with some angry retort, but something caught his eye and he watched as none other than Crowley and Aziraphale turned the corner; completely, blissfully, unaware of their presence. Azrael followed his gaze, and upon spotting the two, smiled.

_“Love_ is such a beautiful concept, is it not?” Azrael asked, keeping his dark eyes on the pair as they stopped along the road, talking animatedly; gesturing at each other and laughing as they moved slowly along the street toward the Ritz, “Yes, such a beautiful, mysterious thing indeed.”

“You are still so idealistic, after all this time.” Gabriel made a half-disgusted face as Crowley and Aziraphale disappeared into the restaurant together, “A Principality and a Demon?”

“Stranger things have happened, I think,” Azrael retorted with another laugh, keeping an eye on the doors, “And oddly enough, _not_ one of those was the Armageddon.”

Gabriel winced and turned away. He’d probably hoped that Azrael didn’t know about that.

“Between us, _I’m_ quite glad it didn’t happen. Could you imagine the amount of work I would’ve had? Millions upon millions of lives extinguished in an instant, just to start a second war with the forces of Hell,” Azrael chuckled, though there was no humor this time, voice lowering down to a dangerous murmur as he continued, taking his eyes off the restaurant to gaze down at Gabriel, who steadfastly avoided his gaze, “... None of you ever did care to know the cost of your fighting.”

There was silence as Azrael finally released him, turning back to the Ritz and slowly folding his arms, amusement slowly breaking the tension in his sharp features.

“And then you tried to _kill them_ for stopping it. You made quite a spectacle of it, too.”

“That was Michael.” Gabriel sighed. “Argue with _him_ over it, if you must.”

“I’d much rather argue with _you.”_

Despite himself, Gabriel snorted. “That’s because Michael would kill you in the time it took you to blink."

Azrael just shook his head, shoulders quaking with the silent mirth.

“Even if he wanted to, Michael could never kill me. You know that.”

Gabriel just rolled his purple eyes in a huff.

There was a long, long silence after that. The two stood together across the street from the Ritz, with Azrael keeping a steady-eyed gaze on it, thoughtful, while Gabriel looked at anything other than the restaurant. Eventually, though the archangel spoke again, a trace of a plea underneath his forced, level tone.

“All you’re going to do is piss them both off.” Gabriel told him, looking back over at the Angel of Death, a warning clear in his voice, “You’re going to piss Hell off, too. If you release Raphael, they'll come for you. _And_ them."

“You say that as if they don’t try to steal my job every other millennium,” Azrael answered, unconcerned, with a one-shouldered shrug, “He deserves the truth, regardless of the consequences.”

“Those consequences are going to be your responsibility. I don’t care if it’s _Satan_ who comes after you, Azrael, it’s you who’s going to deal with it – not them, and certainly not Heaven."

“You _could_ help me, Gabriel,” Azrael pointed out, putting a gentle hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’re right, this will not go unchallenged by Hell, not when they could lose one of their best Demons. I’m sure I could use your help somewhere along the line, brother.”

“What makes you think I want to _help you?”_ Gabriel demanded, shortly, shrugging Azrael's hand off.

“Is it not better than pretending you don’t care?”

“I do not _pretend.”_ Gabriel spat, losing patience at last, turning to face Azrael, so angry that he stomps his foot, much to the Angel’s astonishment, “Raphael deserved to Fall. He went against Her, defied Her. You were there, Azrael, you watched him do it and – in case you forgot – _you_ watched it happen, too. _You’re just as guilty as Michael and I are.”_

Between one moment and the next, Gabriel was gone.

Azrael sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and looking up toward the sky with a frown. He’d hoped that Gabriel would have helped him. His brother wasn’t a monster; he had been so hurt, so scared, so twisted and _broken_ after Raphael Fell. Azrael had hoped that after Armageddon, after everything, that he’d jump at the chance to make things right. But…

Azrael’s eyes found the Ritz again.

No. With or without Gabriel, he was going to free Raphael.

N._.s._.S

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! This has got to be my first fanfic in years! Ya'll might remember me from my Avengers or Mass Effect fanfics, but now I've been sucked into the Good Omens fandom (God help me; but I have no regrets). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! XD


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